Deep in the forest, where shadows play,
Lived a tiny firefly named Ray.
He wasn’t the brightest, his glow was dim,
But Ray had a dream that burned within.
He longed to sing a lullaby sweet,
To help the forest drift to sleep.
But the other fireflies would laugh and say,
“Your song won’t reach the Milky Way.”
One quiet night beneath the moon,
Ray began to hum a tune.
It started low, then soared so high,
A melody to soothe the sky.
The owls stopped hooting, the crickets paused,
Even the breeze gave a round of applause.
Ray’s gentle glow began to grow,
Spreading warmth in the forest below.
The stars above began to sway,
Dancing softly to Ray’s ballet.
“Your song,” said the moon with a twinkling sigh,
“Is the sweetest lullaby in the sky.”
The other fireflies came to see,
A little bug’s glowing symphony.
“Ray,” they said, “we were wrong to doubt.
Your song is what dreams are all about.”
From that night on, Ray sang his tune,
To the sleeping forest, beneath the moon.
His lullaby wrapped the world in peace,
And all the creatures found sweet release.
So when you hear the crickets hum,
Or a soft breeze as the night has come,
Remember Ray, the firefly small,
Whose lullaby could comfort all.
Goodnight, dear child, let dreams take flight,
Like Ray’s sweet song in the starlit night.